A Little Less Lost Boys, A Little More Masquerade
by The House of Phancycondo
Summary: An expansion on the music video to "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me", based around the rules of Vampire: The Masquerade and the history of Fall Out Boy.


When I was in high school, I got my first computer. It was over ten years old, was stripped of most of its essential programs, and not connected to the Internet, but I used it to do almost of all of my writing back then. Occasionally, I would put some files on a floppy disk-yes, a FLOPPY DISK-and transfer them to the family computer so I could upload them, but I didn't do this often. So when that computer finally died, most of my files, including many of my stories and fanfiction, were trapped on that computer. More recently, I bought a device which can read old hard drives, and was able to recover some of my files from my old computer. Among them was this fanfic, a prelude/continuation of Fall Out Boy's _A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"_ music video, combined with what I know about vampire lore, primarily from _Vampire: The Masquerade_. I've been editing it so that it reads better, removing wonk and streamlining the storytelling, and as I edit through it, I'm going to upload it chapter by chapter. 

I hope you all enjoy reading it!

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

As the teeth sank into Pete's neck, he let out a gasp. Almost immediately, he could feel death's approach. It was sort of like falling asleep, but you could feel the gravity of it, the knowledge that if you let yourself go, that was it. "You" were over. On to the Great Beyond. If there even was one.

Contrary to what his image would have some believe, Pete was not that interested in death. He'd had his brush with death years ago, and didn't seek to repeat it. So when he felt the darkness engulfing him, he immediately recognized it for what it was, and met it, not with a welcoming embrace, but fighting tooth and nail.

Despite his best efforts, Pete started to slip away, the vampire still attached to his neck, sucking him dry. Strangely, he found himself trying to remember how much blood a human body could lose before the damage became irreversible. _Is it fourteen pints? Sixteen?_ He would probably never find out.

Then he was startled from his daze by a searing pain in his neck as the vampire's mouth was ripped off of it.

Pete fell to the ground, his neck throbbing, dimly aware that he was in a quickly growing pool of blood. Around him, everything sounded muffled and distant. However, in front of him, everything was very clear. He saw the vampire that had attacked him-a blond boy with a trucker cap and a white wife-beater, the kind of kid who uploads pictures online to show how "hard" he is-get slammed against a wall by another vampire, tall and thin, wearing a white suit with a cape and a bowler hat. Pete saw the well-dressed vampire press his palm into the small boy's chest, and the boy went rigid, shuddering for a few seconds before going limp. The vampire removed his hand from his chest, leaving behind a scorch mark where his hand had been, which remained only for a moment, before the vampire turned to dust.

Pete felt only a twinge of relief, as it was then that the vampire turned and faced him, a mildly intrigued, almost playful expression on his face. He sauntered over to Pete and knelt down, clicking his tongue as he looked him over.

"It seems I've made a blunder," he said, almost apologetically, as he looked over Pete. "I must have severed your artery when I pulled that fellow off you. Pity, that. You'll be dead in minutes." He stroked Pete's face in a gesture that was not unlike a father stroking a son, but felt more like being pet like a dog.

"Get away from me!" Pete growled at the vampire. The vampire removed his hand, but smiled.

"You are a feisty one, aren't you?" he said, placing his hand over his own mouth in a facsimile of pensiveness. Then he put his middle finger to his mouth and bit down on the glove, daintily pulling it off. "Here; consider this payment for my mistake," he said, and bit down on his own wrist. Blood trickled down onto the ground, and the smell of copper filled Pete's nose.

Pete recoiled. "I'd rather die," he snarled. "I won't become one of you."

The vampire laughed again. "You fool," he said jovially, "this alone won't turn you. You haven't lost nearly enough blood. Now drink up; I've presented you with a real honour and I'll be very cross if you die and leave me with a bloodstained jacket for nothing. Cross enough that I might speed up the process, in fact."

Pete had no reason to believe the vampire, but he was already feeling weak, and didn't know how much longer he would last. With a reluctant resolution, he took the wrist and pressed it to his mouth, drinking in the warm blood. It tasted horrible; metallic and hot, but with each drop he sucked, he could feel his strength returning as his wounds started to close.

"Well done," the vampire said as he let Pete drink. "What's your name, boy?"

"None of your business," Pete said, dropping back to the ground, disgusted at what he'd just done, but feeling stable, if tired.

"Some gratitude," the vampire said, his smile vanishing. However, when he touched Pete, his touch was still tender. "You are mine, 'hunter'. Know that; from now until forever, you belong to me." He placed his hand firmly over Pete's eyes, and Pete could remember nothing beyond that point.


End file.
